It's Not Over, Page 5

  “I can’t go through this again,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “Stop it,” he said and turned to face her, looking down at her on the soft couch in the hotel room suite. “Just stop it.”

  Next to them, the bedroom was empty, the child gone, their son, Cole, gone. Deputies from the sheriff’s office and men in FBI jackets were coming in and out of the suite with their faces torn. They too knew the possibility was there that the child had been taken, like last time, and couldn’t believe it either.

  Something like this doesn’t happen twice. Not to the same people!

  Mary continued to bite her nails. Reporters were gathered outside the hotel, just like last time. Only this time, they had been there faster. As soon as the name had been revealed, they had known there was a story. Many of them were there ten years ago when it happened the last time…when Maggie and Blake had been taken and killed. Mary recognized their faces as she went through the crowd earlier when coming in from searching for Cole. Sixty members of the staff and guests had been out looking for him, going through bushes and wilderness, searching in houses nearby to see if he might have hidden there. Hours had passed.

  Nothing. Not one single sign of life.

  He’s dead; I just know he is. Just like the two others! Oh, dear Lord!

  “He could still be hiding somewhere,” the agent in charge had said several times to calm them.

  But no one believed he was. They hoped, yes, they wanted to be wrong like never before, but deep down inside, they didn’t believe it. Mary sensed they all looked at her and Peter with that look in their eyes—compassionate, yet suspicious.

  She couldn’t blame them.

  “Peter, maybe we should go out there again…”

  He exhaled. “We’ve been out there for hours and hours. We have to wait until it gets light again. The police are still out there with the dogs. There’s still a chance he might have wandered off, then fallen asleep in someone’s yard or under a bush somewhere.”

  “But we can’t just leave him out there? There are alligators and snakes. This is Florida!” she said.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. His were red-rimmed like they were the last time. Only now, his eyes were older and had that brokenness to them. The hope had left them when they realized they never would get their children back. The life and hope in them had never returned. They had seen so much and gone through so much.

  “What’s going on, Peter? I don’t understand. How can this be happening again?”

  “You need to rest, Mary,” he said and helped her sit back down. “You haven’t slept at all. Take an hour or two, and I’m sure he’ll be found while you sleep. We’ll find him; do you hear me? It’s not like ten years ago. It’s not the same.”

  She put her head on the pillow but didn’t close her eyes. Too much was going on inside of her. This was more than one heart could bear to carry.

  “Why did we have to come here, Peter?” she whispered. “I told you I didn’t want to come. I didn’t even want to go on vacation, especially not to Florida.”

  Chapter 12

  The area was buzzing. He was enjoying that very much. They were running around confused and out of it, like frightened little chickens—scurrying around the resort and the houses nearby. They had search groups walking through the wilderness behind the resort, where there might be alligators and whatnot. Sniffer dogs were out running around, bustling through the area, while people everywhere were calling the boy’s name. People were gathering, so many questions unanswered, some were even crying, even though they didn’t know the boy.

  It was a thing of pure beauty, and it was all because of him and what he had done, and boy, had he done it.

  “It’s terrible about the little boy,” someone said to another man as he passed them outside the resort entrance.

  “I feel awful for him…and for the parents, of course.”

  The little pause that seemed so meaningless spoke louder than any words could. It told of the growing suspicion in people who had heard the story before. He especially enjoyed that lingering suspicion. That was the extra fun, the extra spice to it all. Everyone was starting to wonder, how is it possible that this could happen again? Didn’t the parents watch their children? Why did they leave their child alone again? After what happened. You don’t think that…?

  No one dared to say so, but it was on all of their minds. What kind of parents were they dealing with here? Wasn’t something awfully wrong for it to happen twice?

  “You don’t think that…?”

  He heard them whisper with a small gasp in the hotel lobby as he walked by. Voices grew low as he passed them because they felt awful for even thinking this, and to say it out loud would be premature. No one dared to do so yet. But soon, they would say just that. And once the boy turned up dead, they would think the worst. They would know those parents had something to do with it. They would be certain of it, and no matter what they said to defend themselves, it would make them sound guilty. If they cried, they would be faking it; if they didn’t, they were cold as ice and most definitely guilty.

  It was almost too easy.

  Meanwhile, he went to the elevator, got in, and pressed the button for the fourth floor. He got out, walked down the hallway, put the keycard in the slider, and waited for the lamp to turn green, then entered the room. He let the door slam shut behind him before walking to the bed, where the boy was sleeping heavily, drugged out, and would be for hours. Below him, he could hear the voices from the Marshalls’ room, and it didn’t bother him one bit that they were being so loud.

  The police had already searched the rooms. He had waited and brought the child in when they were done. Now, they wouldn’t come back here again. He had it all to himself and was able to listen in on the conversations downstairs.

  He was waiting for them to start asking what everyone else was thinking: “What did you do to your child?”

  That’s when the fun would start—when they turned their suspicion toward the parents and started asking them questions. And while the world turned their suspicion toward them, he would be alone with their son.

  Right upstairs from them, where they could almost hear him scream.

  Chapter 13

  The resort was swarmed with reporters. I had to elbow my way through the crowd outside, Brad in front of me, pushing their microphones away from our faces.

  “Why is the FBI involved?” one of them yelled.

  I didn’t stop to tell him that the FBI would always initiate an investigation involving a possible kidnapping of a child of “tender years” —usually defined as twelve years and younger—even though there is no known interstate aspect. The idiot could do his own research. A simple Google search would tell him this.

  “Do you have any demand for a ransom?” someone else yelled.

  “Is it the mother? Did she hurt her child again?” someone yelled. “Is that why you’re here, Agent Wilson?”

  That made me stop. I pivoted and faced the reporter who had asked. I recognized his face from ten years ago when he had also covered the case. He hadn’t aged by much, a few more grays on his head and in his stubble, but other than that, he looked very much the same. On his jacket, it said, USA Today. I knew him as Fischer back then.

  “First of all, it’s Agent Thomas now. I’ve since been divorced. Second, Mrs. Marshall never hurt anyone.”

  “You got the wrong guy, didn’t you?” he continued. “Ten years ago. Mike Odell wasn’t the right guy, was he, Agent Thomas?”

  I stared into Fischer’s eyes.

  “I mean, you can’t tell me you’re not thinking what we all are,” he continued. “That sort of thing doesn’t happen twice to the same people, am I right? Not without us all wondering if they…”

  “I’m gonna stop you right there, Mr. Fischer,” I said. “There is absolutely nothing that points toward the parents having anything to do with this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find a child.”


  The voices grew loud and rowdy as they all yelled their questions at me at once. Brad was a tall guy, and he protected me while he helped me get to the door.

  “Thanks,” I said as we got into the lobby and walked toward the elevators. “Not that I needed it. I can take care of myself.”

  He answered with a smile as the elevator arrived, and we jumped inside. I showed my badge at the door to the hotel room on the third floor, then rushed inside.

  “Mary? Peter?”

  Mary was lying on the yellow couch. Peter stood by the window and turned as soon as he heard my voice.

  “Agent Wilson,” he said. I saw a glint of hope in his worried eyes. “I am so glad you came.”

  Fighting my tears was harder than expected. I had been standing like this with them ten years ago, exactly the same way, but this time, it felt more personal. I knew these people. I had walked through their worst nightmare with them. We had been through hell and back together. The worst thing that can ever happen to a parent, losing not one, but two children at once. I had never thought I would stand like this with them again in the same situation.

  “It’s Thomas now,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’ve been through a divorce. But you can call me Eva Rae if you like.”

  “Eva Rae?”

  The voice was Mary’s. She had opened her eyes and tried to sit up. Peter rushed to her, and I followed.

  “Careful when you try to sit up,” Peter said as he sat by her side, holding her. Then he looked up at me. “The doctor gave her a sedative so she could relax and get some rest.”

  “I told them I don’t want to rest,” she said, looking up at me with her big eyes reminding me of those big-eyed toy animals that my daughters loved so much when they were younger, the Beanie Boos.

  “I want to find my son.”

  She hugged a pillow as her jaw clenched.

  “I just want him back.”

  I knelt in front of her and placed my hand in hers.

  “That’s why I’ve come.”

  She squeezed my hand in hers. We were still in a world of social distancing after the virus, but in a situation like this, there was no way I could refrain from touching her. I couldn’t imagine the terror that had to be going through her mind right now.

  “It’s him again; isn’t it?” she asked with a strained voice. “He’s back, and he’s taken another child from us.”

  “We don’t know that,” I said.

  “But I know. I know it’s him. I just do. I can feel it. But how is this possible, Eva Rae? We got him. You got him and put him away?”

  “I did, and he remains behind bars,” I said with a deep sigh. “He’s scheduled to be executed this coming Friday. Personally, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this guy chose this exact week to kidnap your other son. I think there’s a message here somewhere, a message to me, actually—to tell me I got the wrong guy. To taunt me. He’s laughing at all of us. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the same guy. It could also be someone copying him, someone wanting to be as famous as Odell became back then. Like a tribute to him, and a way for us to question whether or not we got the right guy. It wouldn’t be the first time in history someone did something like that. Guys like Odell become heroes to a certain group of people who look up to them and dream of doing something similar.”

  Mary gasped lightly. “What are you saying? That he’ll kill Cole too? Just like…Maggie and Blake?”

  I bit my lip, thinking I had to be careful how much I told her. Brad had briefed me on the case while driving there, and we had gone over all the possible theories. Brad seemed to like the conclusion that this was someone trying to become famous, whereas I believed this was more about me than what he assumed. This guy was making me doubt myself and the conclusions we made back then. We had gone through so much trouble to get Odell convicted, but the fact was, he claimed his innocence through it all, and it tormented me. This time, it felt personal to me.

  “We don’t know that, Mary,” I said, trying to hide that was exactly what I feared right now, that this guy had already killed Cole, drowned him like he did to Blake and Maggie. Or that he would do it soon if we didn’t get to him first.

  Chapter 14

  “I don’t understand how this could have happened,” Mary said.

  I had someone bring her some water, then sat down in a chair next to her and asked her to tell me everything. Brad had told me the broad strokes, but I needed the details from her own mouth. I needed to know precisely how Cole disappeared in order for me to be able to create a picture of this kidnapper. I especially needed to know how much was the same as last time in order to understand this guy. How well did he know what happened ten years ago? If God forbid, it was the same guy, and we had convicted the wrong one, then he’d have to know details that weren’t made accessible to the public back then.

  “I was being so careful,” Mary said, writhing in despair while still hugging the turquoise throw pillow. “Ever since…last time…I never leave my kid alone. I wouldn’t dream of it. Just ask Peter; I have been driving him crazy about it.”

  “How did it happen?” I asked and looked toward the windows. Last time, Maggie and Blake were taken from their beds. We assumed the kidnapper came in through the sliding doors leading to the balcony while the parents were having dinner downstairs, then carried them down from there. The sliding doors had been left open, and they showed signs of forced entry; the lock was broken open with what we assumed was a crowbar. If he had carried one child at a time, he could have taken them down that way, but we never knew exactly how he got them out of the room. But back then, the Marshalls had been on the second floor; now, they were on the third floor in a room with no sliding doors or even windows that could open. I had to assume he had used another way of getting to the child.

  “When did you realize Cole was gone?”

  “We were in the pool area. Cole was swimming, and I sat in a lounge chair, reading my book. But I was still keeping a close eye on him; you hear of so many kids drowning in pools like these because no one is watching, and even though Cole was an excellent swimmer, I kept a close eye on him as always. He kept swimming further and further away, toward the lazy river. He asked me if he could go around to the waterfall, and I kept saying no. He had been asking this ever since we got here and told me he would come right back. Finally, I agreed to let him go, and he swam around the area; there are these rocks and palm trees that would only cover him for a few seconds before he’d be in my sight again. He went the trip around once, then twice, and then a third time without anything happening. Then, he asked if he could go a fourth time, and I said we had to get out of the pool soon because it was time to go up to get ready for dinner. He begged and pleaded with me, and I gave in. Silly me, huh? I waited for him to come around the bend, and every time I saw a little face peek out behind the artificial rocks, I was so certain it was him, but it wasn’t. He never came back out. At first, I thought he’d gotten stuck in a game back there or maybe stayed by the waterfall or something, or maybe he was trying to scare me; he liked to do that from time to time because he knew how easy I was freaked out. But as I ran around the pool area toward the lazy river, he was nowhere to be seen. There were tons of other little kids, but not my boy. Frantically, I ran around, calling his name, asking everyone if they had seen him, but people just shrugged. There were so many children. How could they possibly separate one from another? They all wore wings and trunks. Did someone approach him? No one would have noticed. That’s when I alerted the lifeguards, and they helped me search the area and the water to see if he had drowned. Then they called for the security guards who started the search. After about an hour, they called the sheriff’s office, and soon, the place was crawling with police and the next thing, reporters.” Mary shook her head. Her gaze had grown distant as she went through the day’s events once more—telling me what she had probably said so many times before over the evening. I couldn’t help feeling this eerie feeling of déjà vu through all this.
It was the same look she had in her eyes ten years ago.

  Completely paralyzed in shock.

  Chapter 15

  “Where was Peter? You said he wasn’t there. What was he doing?” I asked.

  Mary’s gaze was back, and she looked at me.

  “Oh, he had gone into the shop to buy new shorts. In the lobby.”

  I looked up at Brad, who stood next to my chair. “Any surveillance cameras catch this?” I looked at Peter, sitting on the couch with his wife. “Just to rule you out as a suspect.”

  Brad shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The resort only has surveillance cameras in the lobby. Not by the pool or anywhere else.”

  I figured as much. Otherwise, they’d probably have a pretty good shot of the kidnapper by now.

  “Did you buy anything?” I asked. “Anything that will show up on a credit card statement and show the time?”

  “I bought sunglasses, yes, but I paid cash,” Peter said. “They didn’t have any shorts that I liked.”

  “But, the woman behind the counter can vouch for that?” I said.

  Peter shrugged. “I guess so.”

  I noted it on my notepad for later. This would provide Peter with an alibi, and that might come in handy later. Especially in the eyes of the media, who would throw themselves at the parents.

  “All right, then back to the pool area. You had the search party out. Did anyone say they saw anything?” I asked.

  “A woman saw a man carrying a child,” Brad said. “In his arms like the child was sleeping. But she couldn’t say if it was Cole.”

  I nodded. “That could be something.”

  “But Cole wouldn’t let someone carry him,” Mary said, concerned. “Not if he didn’t know him.”